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| Location: // |
| Subject: | Title story: "The Weekend" Author: Bill 82661893 |
| From: | TheXfan |
| Posting date: | 09-08-2006 |
| Content: | |
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The Weekend
There's this tall brunette at work, let's call her Erica, who I've grown to know
quite well. Let's just say that even though I try to help all those who ask for
help, she's thought that I was kind of special in that way. Since her first day
at work I helped her adjust to our environment and feel more comfortable.
Eventually people could see us taking lunch breaks together. Nothing much
happened beyond that, however, as I'm already happily married to my lovely wife,
who for this story I'll call Lola.
As it happened one day during lunch, Erica, who is usually fairly stoic about
her emotions, broke down and started telling me about her breakup with the guy
she was seeing for the past year. For the next half hour, her frustrations and
depression and anger became more and more evident. When lunch hour was up, she
asked me "can you spend some time with me after work? I really don't want to be
alone right now."
Well, after listening to such an outpouring of emotion, it was kind of hard for
me to keep my mind on my work and not to think about and sympathize with Erica's
problems. So finally, after work, I drove her home. She was noticably silent
through the whole ride. She asked me in, and I accepted, though saying that I
could only stay a few minutes. Once inside, she hugged me, clung to me. In a
friendly sort of way I returned the hug. I assumed she just wanted someone's
shoulder to cry on. As her lips slowly drifted towards mine, though, I gently
pushed her away, saying sorry and reminding her that I was married. She then
told me "but I love you..." Thoughts started rushing through my head, was she
saying this only because of her recent trauma? is she mistaking gratitude and
intimacy for love? I couldn't say. I decided to try to scare her away. I told
her "I love my wife very much, and I can't bring myself to having an affair
behind her back. But perhaps if you'd like to join us..."
Well, she did stop and look at me strangely, but then that look melted back
into that look of longing and infatuation, as she bowed her head and said "yes,
whatever would make you happy." This answer caught me unexpectedly. I tried
again to scare her away by warning her "You might not like what we do. I like
to tie up and 'do SM' to my Lola. I enjoy abusing and hurting helpless victims.
You can still back away now, I'm giving you this chance... unless you wouldn't
mind being tied up and having intense pain inflicted on you." Again that look
of disbelief flashed across her face. In her typically stoic reaction, she
looked down, and after another moment of silence she said "I didn't know you
were the type." "We all have thoughts locked within us that would shame hell,"
I told her, "and I can't change who I am." She admitted to me that she's never
been, well, tied up before, and that she was interested, "only because I trust
you so much."
Exasperated, I rationalized it out to myself that I shouldn't feel guilty then,
that it wasn't like I was sneaking around or anything, so I gave in and said
"Fine, I will pick you up from work on friday, and you will not see the outside
world again until monday, when I drive you back to work. While you are in my
house you may not disobey any of my orders. That's the way I run my household.
Understood?" I guess it was as surprising for me to see her getting excited
about this as it was for her to find out a little about my private life, but I
could see her excitement was cheering her up. "Since you've never done this
before, I'll go a bit easier on you." I felt good for her, and strangely happy
about myself as we said "good-bye," "see you tomorrow at work," and "thank-you
for the ride."
On my way back home, I was thinking how lucky things were turning out the way
they were. As so happened, a couple of days ago Lola, who I guess was bottling
up a lot of emotion about Erica, exploded at me, accusing me of secretly loving
Erica over her. This was surprising to me because I trusted her enough to tell
her about almost anything, including those things that may have seemed almost
questionable. If anything I thought she would trust me back. "Who, Bill (my name
in this story), sneaking around?," I hear her say in my mind, "Impossible! He
tells me everything!" I guess I was wrong, and the shouting match escalated and
we began calling each other names. Horrible names. I finally shouted that
obviously, since we both had so much to hate about each other, we should sit
right down here at the table and write down everything about each other that we
hate. She more than agreed, in fact stormed out and came back with a stack of
loose-leafs and a fist full of pens and yelled back "Alright, start writing!"
After about an hour of furiously writing, looking up to glare at each other,
then bending down again of more furious writing, she yelled out at me (a little
less energetically this time) "Finished ...
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